


Remember Me

by carolej126



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolej126/pseuds/carolej126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Jim take a chance on an old romance?</p><p>Spoilers for 'The Inside Man'.</p><p>A TS/DM crossover written for the Crossover TS Lyric Wheel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember Me

"We'll be right back with game highlights and an interview with Coach Brianski."

As an animated dryer sheet began to proclaim its 'better than the rest' qualities in a high pitched, off-key voice, Jim rolled his eyes and got up from the couch. Turning off the television and heading for the kitchen, he glanced back across the room at his busily working partner. "Hey, Chief? Want something to drink?"

Blair shook his head faintly. "No, thanks." He typed out a few more words before curiously lifting his gaze from the computer screen. "Half-time already?"

Jim chuckled softly. "Sandburg, the game is over."

"It is?" Blair twisted around to check the clock. "Man, how did it get to be so late?" he moaned.

Pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge, Jim laughed again. "It's only five o'clock."

"Yeah, but I started working on this right after lunch."

"Almost done?"

Blair nodded. "I've only got a few more pages to work on and then I'm free for the evening."

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?" His own drink in hand, Jim held out a second bottle in invitation.

"Not right now," Blair sighed. "I'll probably make some tea when I'm finished with this, though."

"Want me to put the water on so it'll be ready?"

A smile flashed across Blair's face. "That would be great. Thanks, Jim."

"No problem." Waving off Blair's gratitude with a smile of his own, Jim quickly gulped down a few swallows of his icy cold water before filling the teakettle and setting it on the stove.

"Hey, did the Jags win?"

"They sure did, 110 to 103."

"Cool!" Blair exclaimed in delight, throwing a clenched fist into the air. "Aren't you going to watch the second game? I think it's, uh, the Sonics and the Jazz."

Jim shook his head at the thought of more television. "Nah." He returned the now half-empty water bottle to the fridge. Debating his options, he glanced over at the bookcase against the wall. "I think I'll just read for a while."

The detective made his way across the living room. Surveying his choices, he found several books that piqued his interest tucked in between Sandburg's tomes and texts. From the top shelf, he pulled down two hardcover adventure yarns, but after reading the dust jacket reviews, he replaced them on the shelf with a dissatisfied frown. Choosing another at random, he began to thumb through a military biography he'd begun but never finished. He had just decided to take the book over to the couch when a folded piece of lined paper fell out from between the pages and fluttered to the floor.

Unfolding the paper curiously, Jim's heart nearly stopped when he recognized the long forgotten note. He stared at the message for a long time, his eyes returning again and again to the signature at the bottom. Love, Michelle.

"Jim? You okay, man?"

At the sound of Blair's voice, Jim looked up. "What?"

"I asked if you were okay. You've been standing there looking at... whatever that is... for a long time."

Nodding slowly, Jim answered, "Yeah."

"Why do I think that should be a 'yeah, but...?'"

A hint of a smile crossed Jim's face. With the book tucked under his arm securely, he carried the note over to the couch. Sitting down next to Blair, he set the paperback book on the coffee table before perusing the message again.

"What is it?"

Jim didn't answer. With his sense of touch fully open, sensitive Sentinel fingertips were absentmindedly cataloguing the minute flaws and imperfections in the paper as he turned the note over and over in his hands.

"Jim?"

Raising the note to his nose, Jim inhaled deeply, identifying the barely perceptible scent of Michelle's perfume that still lingered even after several months.

"Jim?"

Blinking, Jim pulled his attention away from the note in his hands to see Blair leaning forward in concern. "Hmmm?"

"You zoning on me?"

"No. Just thinking."

"So, what is it?"

Jim's smile was bittersweet. "A note from Michelle Lazar."

Blair blinked in recognition. "Oh."

"She sent me her phone number just before she left Cascade."

"Did you ever call her?"

"Once."

Eyebrows raised at the admission, the anthropologist set his work aside, devoting his full attention to the conversation. "And?"

"She said she needed time to think things over."

When Jim fell silent, an almost melancholy expression on his face, Blair carefully asked, "You really cared about her, didn't you?"

With memories of another place and time filling his mind, Jim nodded.

"What about now?"

Jim's response came slowly, thoughtfully. "I'm not sure." He got up from the couch and padded across the room to stare silently out the balcony windows.

Joining his partner, Blair stared out at the bay for a few minutes before turning to face Jim. "You could call her again. See what happens."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

With a heavy sigh, Jim met Blair's gaze. "It's just..." He shook his head.

"Just what?"

"She was trapped in a bad situation. Hell, a dangerous situation. Then I showed up, offering her a way out. Maybe that's why she..."

Blair nodded his understanding as Jim's voice trailed off. "You think that's why she fell for you?"

With a shrug, Jim shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe." Pushing the balcony doors open, he walked forward to lean on the railing. "You know, I'm the one who told her she had to make a choice."

"A choice about what?" Following Jim outside, Blair leaned one hip on the railing, positioned so he could see the older man's face.

"I told her she could stay with the Lazars or she could leave and walk away from it forever. It was her choice."

"And she did the smart thing. She chose to walk away from it."

"Yeah, she did... And when it was over, she walked away from me, too."

Blair rested his hand on Jim's shoulder, touched by the quiet, pain-filled words. "There was so much going on, so much to think about. Maybe she couldn't handle a relationship right then."

"Maybe."

"Do you regret what happened?"

"No," Jim admitted softly. "She was worth it."

Blair gave Jim's shoulder a brief squeeze. "So, call her." Moving back to the couch, he picked up the phone and held it out in invitation. "Go on."

"She might not even want to hear from me after all this time."

"Maybe not. But you'll never know if you don't call. Right?"

After a moment of hesitation, Jim came inside. Uncertainty written on his face, he stared at the phone in Blair's hand.

"Works better if you dial it," Blair teased fondly.

Giving a soft chuckle in response, Jim reached for the phone. He checked the hand written number and began to dial.

Blair moved away, trying to give his partner at least some illusion of privacy in the small loft apartment. Hearing the teakettle beginning to whistle faintly, he removed it from the heat and turned off the burner before quickly preparing a mug of tea and retreating to the balcony.

Amused to find himself nervously holding his breath as he dialed the last digit, Jim listened as the phone rang once, twice. There was a third ring before the phone was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Uh, may I speak to Michelle?"

There was a brief hesitation in the woman's voice. "May I ask who's calling?"

Jim cleared his throat. "Yes. Detective Ellison. Cascade PD."

"Well, my goodness. I've heard all about you. It was so good of you to help Michelle through that awful experience with the Lazars. You know, I knew right from the beginning Vincent was up to no good. Of course, I didn't dream he worked for the mob, but then I guess you never know about people, do you?"

Slightly overwhelmed by the non-stop verbiage, Jim answered, "I'm glad I was able to help, Mrs...?"

"How silly of me. Where are my manners? I'm Michelle's mother, of course."

Jim had to smile, amused by the non-introduction.

"You know," she continued without a break. "I was telling my husband just last night how wonderful it is that Michelle and Edward have a chance to start over again. My grandson did have a hard time of it at first, being in a new place, but he's doing much better now. In fact, the..."

"Excuse me," Jim interrupted, hoping to stave off another torrent of words. "If Michelle is there, may I speak to her?"

"I'm really sorry," she laughed again. "Here I am going on and on when you really wanted to talk to Michelle. Let me get her new number for you."

A bit confused, Jim said, "I was under the impression she lived with you. The note she sent me..."

"Oh, she did, until about a month ago," the woman interrupted cheerfully. "She lives in LA now. You see, she heard from an old high school girlfriend who was looking for a roommate and decided to stay with her for a while. And then... Oh, goodness. Listen to me, prattling away again. Here's that number you wanted."

Quickly scanning the area for a scrap of paper without success, Jim mentally apologized to his partner as he reached for Blair's red marking pen and jotted down the long distance number on the back of a handy blue book.

"Can I help you with anything else, Detective?"

"No, I don't think so, but thank you for your help."

"Oh, you're very welcome. I know Michelle will be very happy to hear from you. Goodbye."

Finishing off his tea, Blair ignored the faint words coming from inside the loft, concentrating instead on the early evening activity all around their building. Shifting his gaze toward the bay, he watched as a sailboat crossed the water, tacking toward land as the sun slowly descended toward the waves.

His anticipation growing, Jim punched in the new number. Pacing back and forth in front of the large balcony windows, he listened as the phone rang over and over. Ready to give up, he was about to hang up when the phone was suddenly picked up and a male voice intoned, "Hello?"

At first assuming he'd mistakenly dialed the wrong number, Jim's heart froze for the second time that evening when he heard a faint but all too familiar voice in the background asking, "Honey, who is it?"

Stunned, Jim shook his head in disbelief.

"Steve? Is it for me?" came the soft voice again, louder this time.

His fingers tightening convulsively, Jim crushed Michelle's note in his hand.

"Hello?" the man repeated, his tone slightly impatient. "This is Lieutenant Sloan. Can I help you?"

Jim remained silent. A few seconds later, he heard a 'click' as the line was disconnected from the other end. Looking down at his hand, he slowly and deliberately allowed the crumpled paper to drop to the floor. Then, with an air of finality, he hung up the phone.

As the sun disappeared completely, swallowed up by cloud and sea, Blair turned to check on his partner. Reentering the room with a hopeful look, he lifted his hands in an inquisitive manner. "Well? What did she say? Did she..."

"Not now, Chief," Jim muttered. Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, he twisted off the battle cap and took a quick gulp of the bitter liquid.

"Jim?"

"Not now." This time Jim's voice was a little softer. He gently pushed past his partner and headed for the solace of the balcony.

Reassured by the unspoken promise of 'later', Blair picked up the discarded paper, smoothing it out in his hand. Shaking his head in dismay as he read through the short message, his jaw tightened when he reached the last few words. Please remember me. Love, Michelle.

Filled with compassion for the man who stood motionless, gazing out into the night with unseeing eyes, Blair murmured bitterly, "Damn it, Michelle. Why didn't you remember him?"

~end~


End file.
